


Night Before the Full

by Quietlemonhush



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Biting, D/s, Hair Pulling, M/M, Rough Sex, altered timeline like forget the war this is happy, they’re in love, werewolf antics, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 06:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietlemonhush/pseuds/Quietlemonhush
Summary: It’s the night before the full moon. Remus is anxious. Sirius is late.





	Night Before the Full

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Enjambment for the idea that harvest moons would affect werewolves differently!

It was an August night, and Sirius Black was 22, and when the moon rose that night it looked full, just the barest part of it hidden away in the dark. Tomorrow would be a harvest moon, orange over the fields, and he would chase a wolf and a deer until they all collapsed at dawn. 

He jogged the last steps to his flat, nearly running up the stairs to the door. He had been gone too long. Work, and picking up more dittany, and an emergency owl from Kingsley about some suspicious activity on the Underground, which was ridiculous because Death Eaters didn’t use the Underground, and normally Remus wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t notice, would be lost in a book or talking to James or Lily or Marlene. But it was the night before a harvest moon, and when Sirius opened the door to his dark flat, he could feel it like an electric glow in his belly.

“Moony?” He called, and closed the door behind him. He stepped forward, shedding his leather jacket at the door and letting his keys fall in a bowl Remus insisted would keep him more organized. “Sorry I was so long. Kingsley—“

There was movement, and then Sirius was shoved back against the wall and a body was flush on his, and Remus’ eyes flowed faint golden in the dark. “I can smell him on you,” he said softly. “He touched you.”

“Did,” Sirius agreed, a little breathless from the force of it. “But you know it wasn’t like—“

“I know.” Remus said, and nosed at Sirius’ jaw. “I’m just informing you. I can smell it.”

“Should we take a shower?”

Remus laughed, a little darkly, and found both of Sirius’ wrists in the dark, holding them in one hand against his chest. “No, pretty. No showers yet.”

Sirius shivered, shifting his weight on his hip and then back when Remus pressed his knee near painfully against Sirius’ groin, inching it up so that Sirius had to rise up on his tip toes. “S’almost full,” he said thickly. “You in control?”

“Of you,” Remus conceded and then leaned forward to bite sharply at Sirius’ neck. Sirius hissed and jerked away, then cursed at himself, because Remus tightened his grip, holding him against the wall so hard he could feel his wing bones grinding into the plaster. “No.” Remus said, frustrated. “Stay.”

“I will,” Sirius said, forcing himself not to strain or wiggle. Remus never minded, laughed fond when Sirius wriggled against him for more affection, more touch, watched fascinated when Sirius writhed on the bed, overstimulated and gasping, but in the days before the moon Remus grew anxious, wanted him still, wanted to feel him fighting himself to stay in place, wanted to be in control even of this. “You know I won’t go.”

Remus ground his teeth together for a moment, digging his fingers into Sirius’ wrists, and then kissed him. Normally Remus kissed him soft, little pecks in the morning to say hello, lips brushing the bridge of his nose. Sometimes Remus kissed him excited, pulled him into the corner of an Order meeting and snogged him until Sirius felt giddy like they were back at Hogwarts. On nights like these Remus kissed him hard, teeth and snarls, like he needed to mark Sirius, to steal his breath. Sirius gasped against his mouth, then let out a noise when Remus bit down hard on his lower lip.

“Need to fuck you,” Remus panted, his free hand grabbing at Sirius’ belt. “Need to touch you. It’s so loud and I can’t barely, and I just need-“ 

“Moony,” Sirius said, and kissed him, because he did know, had watched the tension ease out of Remus’ shoulders, his touch grow soft and wondering and gentle at the sight of him all stretched out. “Give me my hands,” Sirius said, trailing kisses along Remus’ jaw. “Trust me.”

Remus did, and Sirius pulled off his own shirt, tossing it into the dark beyond Remus’ head. He pushed off his pants next, staggering when Remus dropped to his knees and mouthed at Sirius’ thigh, the crease of his hip. He groaned when Remus flicked his tongue over the tip of his cock, stifling an urge to move forward. “Mine,” Remus hummed in the back of his throat, moving to bite at Sirius’ hip bone. 

“Yours,” Sirius agreed breathlessly, forcing himself not to rock his hips. Remus would pin him if he did, would bruise his thighs with the pressure of his fingers, and Sirius never minded being pinned or bruised, thrilled at the dark look in Remus’ eyes when he dragged him closer. But he knew Remus would get more anxious, more agitated. On nights like these it was like some part of him couldn’t believe Sirius would stay, and if Sirius pushed him too far, fought him too much, he wouldn’t dominate as usual: he would crack, dig his fingernails into his own palms and chew his lips bloody. Other days Sirius would flirt and make Remus chase him, make him pin him the floor and tie his hands to keep him in place, and they would both love it, would laugh afterwards and read muggle novels still smelling of sex. But tonight he would keep still until Remus could trust that he wasn’t flying away.

“Pretty,” Remus added, and Sirius clenched his fists against the wall. Remus only ever called him pretty on the nights he fucked him breathless.

“To the bed, Moony,” Sirius tried, and Remus laughed, yanked sharply at Sirius’ wrist until he dropped, inelegantly tumbling into Remus’ lap. 

“Right here,” Remus said, tangling his fingers in Sirius’ hair and pulling him close to kiss him, lick along the ridge of his teeth and the pout of his lower lip. “Waited too long.”

“The bed is softer—“

Sirius yelped when his hair was yanked hard, forcing his neck against his back. His eyes swam.

“What’d I say?”

“You said right here.” Sirius said, blinking hard.

Remus let out a satisfied noise and then pushed, sending Sirius limbs akimbo to the floor. By the time he got to his hands and knees Remus was on him, curled over his back and nosing at the ridge of his shoulder while two fingers pressed against him. Remus was in his brain enough to remember lube, but he pushed hard, frustrated that there was anything between them, and Sirius gasped at the suddenness of it, the burn as Remus scissored his fingers impatiently. “Ah!” Sirius cried out, dropping his head between his shoulders so that his hair fell over him like a dark curtain, layers of shadow. 

At first Remus had hated these nights, had gone missing and driven his fists against his stomach to keep himself from grabbing at Sirius. It took Sirius ages to unravel it, to understand that the distance wasn’t anger but fear, fear that he would bite too hard, push too hard, leave Sirius crying in real terror. Remus never trusted himself to stop. Remus always made sure he never had the chance to do the worst. 

But Sirius knew that even when Remus’ eyes were golden, he only wanted so badly that he could barely contain it. They argued. Remus refused and Sirius pushed and they both yelled and then they were assigned on the same mission the night before a full, because James was sick and there was no one else, and Remus fucked Sirius until he cried in an alleyway, and the next morning when Remus tried to break it all off Sirius said please again please and the rawness in his voice convinced them both. 

It was still a balancing act. James and Lily would be by in the morning, and Remus would find bruises on Sirius after the full and frown at them, and be gentle, too gentle, until Sirius provoked him and then they would fuck again and Sirius would arch underneath him and beg and Remus would believe him again, both for the sex but also for the moments after, when Sirius wound his arms around Remus’ middle and sniffled at his neck, vulnerable and open and soft, and for the way they drank tea together, like sex didn’t even exist, like they were made of the same thread and wound around and around each other.

“Moony,” Sirius moaned, his arms tight with the exertion of stillness. “Fuck, Remus, that’s—“

“You’re so pretty,” Remus murmured, and for all his urgency he was lost in the way his fingers felt inside Sirius, the warmth and tightness there, the way the rim of Sirius’ arse pulled at them as he moved them in and out. He paused for a moment and ran his thumb over Sirius’ rim, teasing at it, mindless of the way Sirius whimpered. Remus forgot himself, forgot anything but the scent, and leaned forward to lap at Sirius’ entrance, humming contentedly at the familiarity of it.

“Fuck!” Sirius said, and couldn’t stop himself from pushing back into the warmth of Remus’ tongue. 

But Remus didn’t mind for moment, trusted for a moment, and in response just pressed his tongue deeper, pulling Sirius open with his thumbs. He licked at the sensitive skin, drinking in the way Sirius groaned and shifted back, asked for more. This was his. This was his and no one would come to take him away. He dragged his tongue along Sirius’ cleft, felt the way his boyfriend shivered, and then he wanted more, wanted to hear Sirius scream, so he raised his head and reared back on his knees and lined himself up and pushed.

Sirius couldn’t hold himself still, couldn’t help but scrabble at the floor and cry out, because it was so much so fast and Remus was thick and full inside him, his hand tight at Sirius’ hip, and he didn’t pause to adjust but pulled back and then in again, and Sirius let out a noise and pulled forward, away, too muchtoomuchtoofast—

“No!” Remus snarled, grabbing Sirius’ arm and wrenching it hard behind his back so that he collapsed, his face against the hardwood. He snapped his hips forward, and Sirius keened, because it was too much and he couldn’t breathe and Remus was slamming into him, pressing against the sparking spot inside of him and it burned and hurt good in his belly.

Sirius whined, but Remus tightened his grip and thrust, faster now, hard enough that his balls slapped against Sirius with every move and he liked the sound of it, liked the sound of Sirius moaning beneath him, overwhelmed and asking for more and less at once, so he curled forward, trapping Sirius’ arm against his belly and reaching his free hand underneath them to grab Sirius’ cock. Sirius was pushing back now, meeting each thrust, and Remus stroked him hard and fast, feeling his hips rock into the movements.

“Mine mine mine,” Remus said into his ear, biting at his ear, his shoulder, proving it with each thrust, because if Sirius wasn’t his then why was he on the floor beneath him, all pale skin in the moonlight, shuddering with each snap of Remus’ hips? If Sirius didn’t belong with him, to him, why was he moaning Remus’ name, why did he smell like Remus, why were Remus’ teeth marks embedded on his shoulder? He panted with the weight of it, the knowledge and the promise, because Sirius Black was hard to hold on to but he was holding on to him, was grounding him against the floor, was making him make noises no other human knew how to wring out of him. Everyone could see him, could run their eyes down his long legs and over his slim waist, could see the pale skin where his band tshirts rode up and revealed a flat belly, and Remus knew they did, knew they watched him with lust and want, and he surged forward just for the sound of Sirius breaking under him, of knowing they could see but not touch, could never hear this.

Sirius was blabbering now, a chant of Remus’ name and curses, and Remus closed his eyes to hear it better, the desperate tone of Sirius’ voice when he was pushed this far, when it was too much. “Please please please please” Sirius said, pressing against Remus’ hand, and Remus stroked him, twisting his hand at the top in the way that had made Sirius toss his head since sixth year. 

Remus could feel his own orgasm building in his gut, but he pushed back against it, wanted to feel the way Sirius spasmed when he came. “ShitfuckMerlinMoony,” Sirius said, and Remus canted his hips, made sure he was hitting that spot, and another day it would’ve been because he loved Sirius, loved to make him feel good, loved to make his limbs go loose and pleased, but today it was because he wanted to hear him shout, wanted to blot out every other human on the planet.

Sirius writhed when he came, twisting his hips hard against Remus’ constricting fingers. Remus ground his teeth to keep from howling, the way it felt so right for Sirius to be his, to be here, for the two of them to be connected and it was right, right, and he pushed harder, gloried in the way Sirius slumped boneless, held up only by Remus’ fingers on his hipbones.

“Prettymine,” Remus said thoughtlessly, releasing Sirius’ wrist finally to grab a fistful of his hair. 

“Yours, yours, yours,” Sirius said raggedly, and that was what tipped Remus over into the whitehotheat, Sirius’ voice so raw but still agreeing that yes, it was true, this was true in both of their bones, and Remus shouted, curling his fingers tight and feeling the moon in his blood, the fire of the bite on his side, Sirius’ pulse in his ears.

His vision whited out, and when he came to himself he was slumped over Sirius, both of them breathing hard, and he could smell sex everywhere, could smell Sirius’ exhaustion, could smell where he had bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He pulled back and finally let Sirius collapse fully, go boneless on the floor, and then dropped next to him, laying flat on his back and panting up at the ceiling. There was quiet for a moment, and then Sirius hiccuped, a little crying noise, and Remus jolted up, the moon receding in his mind and some saner thought showing through. “Love?” He asked, reaching out in the dark to touch Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius curled against him, rubbing at his eyes. “S’okay,” he said. “Just got––just got overwhelmed.”

After the moon, Remus would return to this moment, and he would fret and take Sirius in his arms and ask him softly if they should change things, if Remus should stay in the Shack the days before the moon. He would ask why Sirius hadn’t said the word, not accusing, just confused, because that was his concession: he would stay if Sirius would agree to the magic, the spell that would send Remus flying back and summon James if Sirius murmured doxie blood. Sirius would sigh and settle himself against Remus and say I liked it, Moons. 

But you cried, Remus would say, agitated at this proof that maybe he was hurting what he loved.

People cry for all sorts of reasons.

Usually not after sex, not for happy reasons.

It feels like being in a hurricane, Sirius would say, temple on Remus’ collarbone, fingering the fraying edge of his cardigan. It feels like spinning apart. But the hurricane loves you, too. The hurricane is spinning into you. 

Hurricanes kill people, Padfoot.

Sirius would sigh. You’d have stopped if I said so, he would say. If I wanted you off of me I could’ve cursed you through the wall.

I had you pinned! Remus would say. And your magic would’ve likely bounced right off!

I’m trying to tell you that I wasn’t afraid, Sirius would say, quiet against Remus’ chest. I’m trying to tell you that I liked it.

For the moment, Remus gathered Sirius against his chest and petted his hair while Sirius came back to himself, gone pliable like melted butter. It was long minutes until he could speak, and by the time he could Remus had carried them both to the bedroom and curled around him under a pile of covers. 

“Feeling better?” Sirius mumbled, twining his fingers around one of the curling locks that drifted down towards Remus’ forehead. “Calmer?”

“Mmm,” Remus agreed, and when he felt Sirius drift to sleep in his arms, he let himself fall the same way.

 

“Hallooooo gentlemen!” James singsonged from the fireplace, where Lily was stepping out and dusting ash from her dress. “The Potters are here to see if you’re decent!” 

“And take you to brunch!” Lily called. 

The sun had eased the moon back to sleep and shone in golden through the windows. James and Lily were dressed in muggle clothes, although James still looked uncomfortable without a robe to sweep about him. They made a point to stop by the days before the Moon, to make sure Remus was eating and Sirius wasn’t being eaten.

When there was no response James frowned, drawing his wand from his sleeve. He stepped over a pile of Sirius’ clothes, peering down the hall at the half-open door to the bedroom. “Padfoot? Moony? You here?”

“They might be sleeping,” Lily said. “It’s only eleven.”

James pushed open the bedroom door, braced himself, and saw only Sirius strewn across the bed, his hair sticking up from a pile of covers. “Pads,” James said, and crossed the room in two steps, shaking Sirius. “Sirius. Padfoot.” He said, taking in the blue bruise on Sirius’ shoulder in the shape of Remus’ mouth. 

“Mmmf,” Sirius groaned, rolling onto his back and swatting at James’ hands. “NnnnstopitProngs, m’sleepin.”

James let out a breath and rubbed on hand through his hair. “Mate, you alright? Where’s Moony?”

“The shower,” Lily said from the doorway. “I can hear it running. Good morning, Sirius.”

“‘Llo Lily,” Sirius mumbled, dragging himself up to a sitting position and wincing as he did. “Brunch time?”

“Let me fix you up,” James said, and without waiting ran his wand along Sirius’ collarbone and chest, where dark marks were scattered, bites and fingerprints. “Last night alright?”

“Fine.”

“Rough though.”

“Rough though,” Sirius agreed, lifting his arm for James’ inspection. 

“If only James would turn into a wolf and ravish me once a month,” Lily sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Let me borrow Remus.”

“Mmm, don’t need any pretty girls stealin’ him away,” Sirius mumbled, using the arm James wasn’t fussing over to wipe at his mouth. “Besides, you’d never give him back.”

“That’s rude, the both of you,” James said, pressing his wand to Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius sighed as the ache there subsided, the muscles tense from being wrenched too far back. “Does Moony look this rough?”

“Moony looks fine,” Remus said from the doorway, his hair wet and sticking up at angles, a towel around his waist. His eyes were back to their normal brown, although they would glint as the moonrise got closer. “Hello James. Hello Lily.”

“Hello darling!” Lily said, and rose to wrap her arms around Remus, kissing his cheek. “Are you ready for brunch? I imagine the two of you are famished.” She waggled her eyebrows conspiratorially.

“I could eat a deer,” Sirius said with a sigh.

“That hasn’t been funny since fifth year,” James pressed the tip of his wand to Sirius’ hip, and Sirius let out a yelp as his body adjusted, bruises fading and skin coming back together. 

Remus frowned. He watched James heal Sirius with easy precision and a familiarity born out of nights stuffed under the same Invisibility Cloak, and part of him worried that there was so much to stitch up, and part of him wanted to slap James’ hands away and bear his teeth.

“It’s a hard one, then.” Lily said, and he turned back to look at her. She patted his arm. “The harvest moons do you in.”

“It’s alright,” Remus murmured.

“You just thought about gutting my husband. I saw it on your face.” Her tone was light and her eyes were kind. She looped her arm through Remus’. “Don’t worry, Moony. You’ll feel better after some tea.”

“Or after we go terrorize the English countryside,” James said, finally letting Sirius be. “You know, strike fear into the hearts of all the local sheep.”

“I want tea,” Sirius said with all the grace of a prince.

“Then put on some clothes, you tart. Both of you. We’ll be out front waiting.” James pocketed his wand and walked out, Lily at his side.

“Can’t tell if you’re going to sulk or kiss me,” Sirius said, stretching as he stood and reached towards the dresser.

“Might do both. Surprise you.” Remus said, lifting a pair of folded corduroys off the back of a chair. Sirius snorted and the room fell quiet, only the sounds of the two of them pulling themselves together into pants and trousers and shirts.

When Remus looked over again Sirius was dressed, his hair piled inelegantly on his head. He smiled easy at Remus and leaned close to kiss him, a soft thing. 

“Are we—“ Remus began.

“Fine.” Sirius said. He looped his fingers through Remus’.

And they were.


End file.
